


that which we call

by ravenhead (socksy)



Series: Sword and Spear [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bonding, Friendship, Gen, I can't write fight scenes to save my life, One Shot, Platonic Relationships, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socksy/pseuds/ravenhead
Summary: what's in a name?Two grumpy old men whose idea of bonding is beating the living daylights out of each other.





	that which we call

**Author's Note:**

> oh look it's another ficlet that's entirely self-indulgent and written purely because I wanted to.  
> This is meant as a companion piece to my last one, they can be read in either order.

The halls of Chaldea were empty in a way you could feel in your bones. The harsh sunlight reflecting off the snow outside blanched the walls and made it feel even more isolated - sterile, un-lived-in. The massive structure felt more like a cave than a modern building, sounds echoing off every corner and reminding one just how alone they were.

From the outside, one would assume the place was deserted. There were never any footprints in the blanket of white surrounding the perimeter, and the windows had been tinted to obscure whatever may lie within.

On the inside, they could wander for hours without seeing a soul. The labyrinthian halls had been designed to confuse any intruders, and they were very good at their job.

But if that person were to make their way to the western wing, they might catch a glimpse of a shock of bright blue standing out against the monochrome backdrop.

Cu had no idea how long he'd been standing there, staring at the vast expanse of the mountain. It could have been minutes, could have been hours - time lost all meaning here. He had nothing else to do but spook the few human employees who had survived and remained here, and that had gotten old fast. Now the most he saw of the nameless drones were the corners of their identical white uniforms flitting around the corners like ghosts.

There were only a few others here worth talking to - the Master and Demi-Servant were pretty cute, but they were out on a daily quest and hadn't brought him along. There was that doctor, who was a little too weird- he'd tried to show him some internet idol, and Cu had quickly lost interest. That left the scientist woman, whom Cu had talked to once and after a brief conversation decided to never do that again if he could avoid it. The rest of the servants like him usually chose to remain “asleep” in spirit form, their faces rarely seen and unfamiliar to him.

(The only other servant who would rather keep their physical form was that tiny loud kid in the armour, and if Cu had to spend one more minute hearing Mordred yell about whatever revenge nonsense she was on about now, he couldn't promise he wouldn't toss her out a window.)

That left just him.

He aimlessly ambled through one corridor, not sure if it was he one he'd just come from- or if he had even just come from one. At the end of that one, he veered left, and at the end of that left again. Finally, he came to an intersection that split into two identical lines. Down the right hand one he could have sworn he heard a sound; soft enough to have been his imagination playing tricks on him, but loud enough that it was worth a chance at something besides this endless wandering.

_thud._

The sound was growing louder as he made his way further. Rhythmic smacks echoed through a crack in the door at the end of the hall.

_thud._

A thin stream of light was coming through the crack in a door. Cu gently slid the panel open, the metal gliding soundlessly.

_thud._

The woman in the blue dress was training in a room styled like a dojo, using a wooden practice sword against a stuffed dummy who was looking a little worse for wear. The boken struck blow after blow into the mannequin until the seam finally split and the poor thing's head flew off, leaving a trail of stuffing in its wake.

"Think he's had enough?" Cu finally spoke, picking up the deflated head. The blonde started, whirling around.

"Easy, easy." the Irishman put up a hand at the threat of the wooden pole. "Was just wondering what this guy had ever done to you." he gently underhanded it back towards her. It rolled to the ground and stopped at her feet as she remained still, arms locked in the defensive position.

"I was just practicing."

"Pretty intense practice there, thinking of anyone in particular?"

The two heads moved back towards the tattered remains, and they both may or may not have been picturing a certain blonde man in its place.

The blonde let out a breath. "Practicing. That's all."

Cu smirked. "Care for a partner?"

The question barely registered on her face as she continued considering the row of practice dummies against the wall that had yet to be annihilated.

"Not in _that_ way, get your mind out of the gutter."

That finally made her turn toward him, with a look on her face that implied what he had just said was so demonstrably stupid it didn't even justify a verbal response. It was a look he knew well.

She briefly considered whether it would fall within the bounds of conduct to beat this man to a pulp while he was technically defenseless. She decided that state was easily remedied, striding back towards the supply wall, searching out a sword of similar size and weight to her own and hurling it towards the man a little harder than was necessary. Cu easily caught it in one hand, giving it a few test twirls around his fingers like a baton. To the outside observer, it may look like showing off, but to those who knew him, he definitely was.

The saber only gave him a brief moment to examine the new weapon before she pounced.

He was light and quick, his feet seemed to barely touch the floor as he flew.

She was solid and steady, her feet flat as she stood her ground.

They danced around each other with reckless abandon, swords knocking so hard they strained and threatened to break – neither cared, there were plenty more and it had been far, far too long since they'd fought against an equal.

Saber gripped the sword in both hands and lunged towards him, swinging it over her head and down. Cu swerved and deflected the blow to the side. The lancer knocked his sword back upward, sending her back until she found her footing and swirled around to face him again.

Around and around they went, the clash of wood echoing through the room. The taller man flipped the sword in dizzying circles around his arm, too fast to be seen until he made contact with her chest, knocking the wind out of her. He almost felt bad, he didn't think he'd hit her that hard - just as he he was about to apologize the young woman landed a harsh blow to his stomach, sending him doubling over. She didn't look like she was about to apologize at all.

Cu paused, lowering his sword. “What's your name?” he forced out of his undoubtedly bruised lungs.

The blonde answered without hesitation. “I am Arthur, king of the Britons, defeater of-” she repeated it like a prayer.

“Your real name.” Cu's gaze remained level. She stared at him hard, her face unreadable.

“Arturia.” she finally answered. “Pendragon.”

That was just the distraction he'd needed.

His sword made a wide sweep where her head had been just a moment before. He pushed forward with a flurry of blows she could barely keep up with to deflect until the two swords made a cross against each other, the handler of each straining to gain power, their bodies just inches apart.

He'd never been this close to her. He realized that in person she was actually quite small, standing a full head shorter than him. The moment's pause of the realization gave Arturia just the advantage she needed to swing the sword under his knees and knock him onto his back. The king stood above him, the end of her sword level with his neck.

"Do you yield?"

Cu's eyes traveled up her form before crinkling into another of those irritating smirks. "I suppose I must - it's been a while since a lady had me in a position like this."

Arturia's eyes narrowed as she pressed the sword closer against his throat. "I am no lady."

The blue-haired man cocked an eyebrow. "You sure look like one to me."

That comment earned him a sharp jab, clocking the back of his head against the woven mat floor. Still riding the adrenaline rush, the lass looked about ready to toss her sword away and start using her fists, and Cu's sword had been thrown out of reach in his fall. No matter the size difference, Cu was aware that a sufficiently angry woman was something no man stood a chance against.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, slowly easing onto his elbow to get up without alarming her again. "I'm just kidding, I've never learned my lesson. You're quite the formidable fighter." She nodded, seemingly appeased, offering her hand to him and pulling him upright.

The pair were still sweaty and panting as they mounted their swords back onto the wall. Arturia braced one arm against the wall to catch her breath as Cu backed towards the doorway.

"You're just what I expected," he said between breaths, "from the great King Arthur."

The monarch leaned back further against the wall, giving a half-smile in return. "As are you, Hound of the Irish."

Cu turned his head back towards her as he crossed over the door. "Setanta."


End file.
